


Erosion

by Impressioniste



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impressioniste/pseuds/Impressioniste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things that come between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erosion

The door to the library was closed, again.

For the fifth day in a row, Garrett had retired to his bedroom late, alone, and woke to find himself rising from a cold, half-empty bed.

Anders had been there at some point. The sheets were mussed and there was a familiar indent on the pillow that smelled of clean sweat and smoke and medicinal soap, but he must have come in after Garrett had fallen asleep, and left again before morning.

Anders had always been an early riser, so Garrett was not particularly alarmed to find him missing for a morning or two. There had been plenty of days after first moving in when Anders left early in the morning to see to his clinic, and did not return until late—or sometimes not at all. But Garrett knew for a fact that Anders had recently begun avoiding his clinic almost completely, so that was not the explanation for his scarcity.

No, it was not simply the fact that Anders was gone that concerned him, but rather the reason _why_. The fact that Anders was all-but ignoring his clinic and his patients worried Garrett more than almost anything else. Anders had never been one to turn anyone away. He’d seen Anders push himself to the point of collapse more than once in the past for the sake of his patients. Anders had once confided in Hawke that his ‘job’ as a healer had been one of few things that seemed to be able to keep him grounded when he felt like he was losing control of himself. If he no longer felt safe enough to do even that much, it was troubling at best.

Ever since the debacle with Ser Alrik, and the only narrowly-averted tragedy with Ella, Anders had become quite withdrawn, melancholy, unmotivated, almost listless. Garrett had hoped that it was simply a phase, a coping mechanism to help him deal with whatever emotional turbulence and guilt were waging their war inside him, but before he could really give the situation with Anders his full attention, his own personal problems had gotten in the way. The loss of his mother had wounded him deeply, and even though some time had passed between then and now, the wounds still felt fresh.  
  
Despite his own issues, Anders had tried to be there for Garrett, and he’d appreciated the gesture more than he had really ever been able to express. Anders was a healer. He was adept at fixing broken bones but completely clueless when it came to broken hearts, and Garrett knew it. Still, he’d done his best, sitting with Garrett and comforting him with whatever words he could manage to stumble through, with his presence, with the touch of his hand and with the embrace of those deceptively thin arms whose benign appearance belied their true strength.  
  
Anders had taken up a more permanent residence at the estate since then, but his solemn, somber demeanor hadn’t really changed, and Garrett was disappointed. He’d hoped that having Anders nearby and potentially safer from the templars would have made him feel less anxious, and perhaps have eased his mind to some degree, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He frequently checked the locks on the doors, drew the curtains shut over the windows even in broad daylight, jumping at imagined shadows, and had begun spending increasingly long hours in the library, surrounded by books, _buried_ in books, some of which Garrett was certain had not originally come from his collection at the estate.  
  
They had their moments of happiness, of course, moments of closeness and comfort that they shared and held tight to, as if they anticipated that each moment spent together could be their last. They took solace in the brief moments of shelter from the storms brewing all around them, moments that they both desperately needed, but always seemed to be much too few and far between to bring them any lasting peace of mind, any lasting sense of hope.  
  
Sometimes, Garrett thought they were truly making progress.  
  
But then he’d wake in bed alone, with the door to the library closed, again.


End file.
